by Anne Zoelle
He raised his arms, the cloak giving him an eerie silhouette. The shadows parted, then formed in a wave in front of him.
I ran. Destruction rained behind me.
Chapter Eighteen: Shadows on My Soul
Breathing heavily and hitting another branch with my shoulder, I dodged a root and the grip of a gnarled shadow.
Kaine was gaining ground. I could feel the shadows slipping from existence between us.
He laughed in soulless delight.
“I can feel your fear. Delicious.” His voice was just beyond the shell of my ear. An audible shadow slipping into the hollow. “And I know the secrets of your terror.”
Nightmares formed in shadowlike images in front of me. My friends dying, my family broken at my feet, Christian's lifeless body, my creations crushed and burned. The visions morphed and took shape as my reactions gave them life.
My motions were seizing, panic gripping me again, freezing my muscles as my legs stuttered over a beautifully manicured lawn that connected to a charming cottage somewhere leagues away. Small shadows from between the blades of grass stabbed upward, upending me even more. Panic, terror...my vision started to tunnel. My third panic attack for the day—though this one...this one I now had the experience to identify as it closed around me.
No.
I slashed my hand through a shadow in front of me. It whirled inward along my hand's path like sliced fog, then reformed its shape, wrapping around my palm, cutting off the blood flow and trying to seep under my skin.
Stumbling, but still running, I pinched at the shadow, trying to pull it off, like a bloodsucking leech that had a grip on my fears—raking over them with tiny, barbed teeth.
I slashed a mental hand through the fog closing in on my thoughts, and, though it felt far too similar to the same lack of result, it cut through enough that I could grab hold of something besides all-consuming panic.
Everything in me wanted to open up the Earth and have it swallow Kaine whole. To shoot him into another level of existence, or cast him right from it.
“Do it. Do it, Origin Mage,” the shadow whispered in my ear. “Show yourself.”
It was almost too much. Too many pressing needs crushing me at once—get rid of the fears, excise Kaine, protect Dare, myself, stay free to find Olivia, be free of the fears...
I looked at my palm. At the shadow trying to dig into the whorls where the connection magic to Olivia had swirled. Where Neph had laced a small pool of magic, in case of need. A last resort.
If I wanted to survive, I had no choice but to control my reaction to the shadows, the shapes, and the fear. Dare and I just had to reach the Ninth Circle.
The fog at the edges of the Midlands came into view and so did Dare, sprinting on my left, cloak flowing outward like shadowy wings. Something was reaching for him from above...
Now.
I blasted the magic in my palm outward in both directions, violently thrusting Kaine backward. Shadowed wings slowed him before he crashed. He laughed as we breached the fog.
“I will wait, little mage,” he called. “It won't be long.”
Then we were through the fog. The painful backlash of using the magic was spiraling tighter, inward, squeezing my core like a noose and making me stumble with weakening knees. Dare pressed his palm against my neck and pulled me against him. The black disk sparked against my skin, and everything went dark.
~*~
I blinked, then blinked again, as Medical formed into view. We were standing in an empty room and a small red light was flashing furiously in the corner.
“They'll be here in ten seconds.” Dare put a hand under my arm and pulled me forward, not stopping for me to gain my footing, just carrying my weight right along until I did.
Striding quickly down the hall—with me hurrying alongside—he swirled off his cloak and reversed it, turning it into a collared white shirt that he slipped back on in one smooth motion. He didn't wait for me to do the same—without breaking stride, he unhooked my cloak pin and pulled my cloak off. Pressing it between his hands, it shrunk into a chunky black bag. He handed it back to me, and I looped it over my head and across my frame, all without pausing.
“Do you have any shadows on you?” he asked, voice clipped.
I jerked my palm upward. It was clear. My breath came in pants. “No. No.” The shadow must not have survived the trip.
Footsteps furiously echoed around the bend ahead.
Dare hooked a hand over my shoulder and opened a door, twirling us both inside. He carefully closed the door.
Seconds later, running footsteps banged past. I leaned my forehead against the cold metal of the door, panting.
“Emergency medical device,” Dare murmured in explanation. “Brings whoever is touching it right to Medical. The cloaks should have hidden our presence enough in the room for it to appear to be a malfunction. Give me your palm.”
I did, without pause. He examined it critically, pushing the sleeve of my shirt up. “Clean,” he said, though his tone was skeptical. His gaze grew more intense. “Anywhere else?”
I shook my head, but uneasiness gripped me.
He looked grim. “There is no scan for them. You just get used to the feel of them, and deal each a dark death as it shows itself.”
The idea of carrying around a sliver of Kaine's darkness made me nauseous.
He touched a ward at the side—a protection and anti-eavesdropping ward—and squeezed my hand. He grabbed an energy cookie from a medical basket on the counter and a bottle of salve, putting them both in my hands. I unwrapped the cookie and shoved it in my mouth and was trying to squeeze some of the salve into my shaking hand at the same time as I chewed. The salve immediately soothed some of the burn.
More footsteps pounded past the room.
Dare had a bottled curative potion in hand as he stepped backward and dropped into a chair next to a bed. I blinked, turning my head slightly. There was a person in the bed. My gaze traced up from the tented feet under the blanket to the person's face. I jolted, hit my head against a shelf, and swore.
Constantine's eyes glinted in brief amusement at my surprise, before he turned his unamused attention back to Dare, who was leisurely tipping the potion into his own mouth. “She can stay. You can leave.”
“The wards have to be reset,” Dare said, leaning back in his chair and tossing the empty bottle into the trash bin across the room. “Greyskull told me earlier. If you want to stay out of Medical, that is, when I leave.” It was all said casually, but neither of their expressions reflected that ease.
Constantine continued the heated stare-off for a few tense moments, before turning to me. “Field trip?”
I looked between them. “Something like that.”
A second chair whirred into existence. Dare hadn't moved, but completely free of his dampening cloak now, I could feel his magic in the furniture's addition.
“We have another fifteen minutes until we can leave. Take a seat, Ren.”
I looked between them and reluctantly sat. No one said anything for a few stressed moments.
“This is all horribly familiar,” I said. My fingertips skittered over the origami balloon clutched in my other palm.
Constantine reached out and turned over my hand. He didn't say anything, though his lips quirked the slightest bit as he looked at the paper. “You found your friend? And while holding Alexander's lead.”
I frowned. “Con.”
“Still think you are going after Verisetti?” Dare said. “I'm afraid disappointment must suit you once more.”
Constantine's expression darkened dangerously. I shifted in my seat. If Dare were anyone else, I would be afraid for his health. Constantine turned to me, expression demanding.
I wrapped my arms tightly against my chest. “Dean Marsgrove has Olivia's location. He's going to find her.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and leaned back. “Explain.”
I nervously summed up the trip and meeting with Marsgrove, trying not to g
ive away anything I shouldn't. I kept sending glances at Dare, but he seemed content to say nothing, and he didn't try to alter my story in any way.
Why he was letting me tell Constantine anything was unnerving. My nervousness increased, and I spewed more information as a result.
Constantine's narrowed gaze focused on me, completely pinning me underneath. His head tilted toward Dare the barest bit at the end. His lips turned down, as if he was biting back a remark, and his eyes unfocused.
Almost like they were talking via frequency. But there was no way.
Doctor Greyskull took that moment to enter the room.
Greyskull's gaze took in all three of us—our positions and the magic in the room. A series of complicated expressions switched rapidly on his face. I looked at the wards of the room to see why.
The healing lines were strengthening fast. Far quicker than they had earlier. Far quicker than I had ever seen them. I looked down at my skin. Huh. I probably should be in a lot more pain still. I had thought the energy biscuit had just had extra mojo in it.
Greyskull sighed. One of his tattoos slithered up to the opening of his shirt and peered out, then ducked back down. It reminded me of the vine, a little.
The carnivorous vine that we had unleashed on campus. Great.
A pinch made me jolt. I rubbed my arm and shot a dark look at Constantine.
“What?” Constantine asked, voice deliberately guileless.
I sighed and let my hand drop. “Nothing. Just regretting some of my life's choices.”
“You are too young for that yet, hmmm, Miss Crown?” Greyskull asked, going through the motions of checking all the stats and spells in the room. “I see you've been here for thirty minutes, or so, Mr. Dare?”
It was ludicrously obvious that Greyskull knew exactly what had been going on. And that we hadn't been here for even close to that amount of time.
“About that amount, yes,” Dare said easily.
Constantine's cheek twitched in irritation.
Dare was playing with magic again. Not quite managing boredom, he wasn't hiding it as well as usual—he looked like a professional poker player who for once couldn't hide the fact that he knew he had a winning hand.
Adrenaline junkie.
“And you haven't yet been entirely healed of that earlier wound, I see.” Greyskull looked pointedly at Dare's middle.
“It's fine.”
Greyskull sighed and snapped his fingers. A lotus flower appeared on Dare's lap. Dare picked it up and lifted his shirt. The gash across his abs was ugly and sluggishly healing. He set the flower on top and it melted, white seeping into the deep slice. He pulled his shirt back down and raised a brow at me.
I cleared my throat and looked elsewhere—at Greyskull's face, which was amused. Then at Constantine, who was significantly less so.
Pounding on the door made us all look in that direction.
“Open up, Doctor Greyskull. By the power of Statute 9.143.35, I must immediately question under oath the minors in your company.”
Doctor Greyskull didn't move to open the door, but a wave of his hand slid a small screen into the windowpane. “They have already been questioned. I was present for Mr. Leandred's interrogation.”
I looked at Constantine, wondering how that had gone. Constantine's gaze remained fixed on the official, but his fingers nearest to me moved in a 'so-so' motion on the bed, answering my query.
“I don't care about Leandred. Any idiot can see he hasn't moved. The other two. Send them out.”
“I'm afraid I can't do that, Administrator Tenk,” Greyskull said, his voice apologetic. “These two students are directly helping Mr. Leandred, and are needed here for additional time.”
“The Origin Mage? Right. Move aside, Greyskull.”
Greyskull lifted a brow. “Origin Mage? I was under the impression that she hadn't shown the inclination on the test Praetorian Kaine illegally administered earlier.”
“We all know what bunk that is. I saw the footage—something stopped her, but it wasn't her lack of abilities. Send them out. If we give up the girl, I'm sure our champion, Mr. Dare, will only receive a slight reprimand and be sent on his way back to the competition tomorrow.”
I swallowed.
“Administrator Tenk,” a smooth, new voice asked. “What seems to be the problem?”
Stuart Leandred appeared behind Tenk in the hallway. He was like a penny that rolled along the floor, switching direction, slipping into the cracks, and turning up when least—or most—expected.
“Senator Leandred, sir. You aren't needed in these matters. Anyone not a student or directly involved in student affairs was supposed to exit the Magiaduct at sundown.”
Stuart made a conciliatory gesture. “I was given direct permission by Chancellor Barrie to remain the night since my son is inside that room.”
“Your son has nothing to do with the current situation, Senator Leandred,” the administrator said grimly. “Stay with him, of course. But both of you—” He pointed at Dare and at me. “Out here, now.”
“Again, I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Administrator Tenk,” Greyskull said, his voice calm, even as his tattoos slithered and morphed in a less pacifying fashion.
“Doctor Greyskull, it is interesting that you are standing up for the girl, in light of recent matters,” Tenk said.
Greyskull tipped his head pleasantly. “Is it? I was questioned myself quite thoroughly earlier. I chose to do so by way of the Truth Stone even. I believe you were there.”
Suddenly, there was something very hard about Greyskull under the kindly doctor smile. It reminded me of what Dare liked to say about healing magic and death magic. Healers could be more dangerous than people liked to believe.
I could picture Greyskull engaged on a battlefield, casually injecting death with simple touches—one tattoo shot at a time. Or at a fight club—all wiry, lean strength, tattoos, and vicious attitude.
My Doctor Greyskull crush? Still intact, it seemed.
“I was there.” The official glanced distastefully at something on Greyskull's wrist. “Be glad you wear that.”
“Every day, I'm overjoyed at its existence,” he answered sincerely.
I looked at his wrist—at the thin black chain wrapped around it. It looked as benign as any other decoration in the Second Layer—assuredly magic of some kind, but unexceptional looking. But Delia's looked ordinary as well, and it tracked her magic—and neutered it, if necessary.
I wondered if Greyskull's chain had anything to do with whatever vows he had made to work at Excelsine. It wouldn't be a secret that he had been friends with Raphael to anyone with access to whatever the equivalent of a yearbook was at Excelsine.
At some point, I was going to need to look through one of those.
“As a medical professional, I cannot allow you to disrupt the healing in this room,” his voice rang with truth, and he casually held up his arm. A glint of light glittered on the dark chain. “As I said, these two students are directly helping Mr. Leandred, and my patients are my primary concern.”
“Those two helping each other?” The official's eyes narrowed on both boys. “I don't think so.”
I sneaked a glance at them. Dare and Constantine both looked bored. Far more like the nineteen-year-olds they were, rather than the warrior and manipulator masks they usually wore.
Poker faces, both of them.
“Well, then what are they doing right now?” Greyskull pointed out. “One must be helping the other, no matter what you believe to be the truth.”
“Cute. I want—”
“It doesn't matter what you want,” Stuart smoothly interrupted in a calm voice. “Today was an exceptional day. And if old prejudices are put aside for the good of—”
“You are either blind or complicit.”
“I am neither.” Stuart smiled less pleasantly, steel in his voice. “All you need to do is look at the magic.” He waved a hand at the stats in the room that could be seen from the hall. “T
he metrics are right there. Easy enough to read.” He pointed at us, then at the room. “And the magic has shown an increase of fifteen percent since I was here an hour ago. Fifteen percent. If they had only been here for the five minutes you are claiming, the increase wouldn't be so dramatic.”
I looked around, intrigued by this fact.
Neither Constantine nor Dare looked surprised by Stuart's statement, but interestingly, neither looked all that pleased either.
The official looked as if he had a lemon lodged in his gums. “Sorcery.”
“That is certainly something that you can bring up in your review,” Stuart said, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder and steering him away from the window. “Meanwhile, how about you track down the perpetrators of the crime you say has been committed.”
“This isn't—” The window closed on the rest of his statement.
The argument continued in the hall for a full minute before the official stomped off.
Stuart gave a final wave to the man, then entered the room. The wards let him enter, though Greyskull narrowed his eyes at whatever the stats were telling him.
Stuart looked at each of us, in turn. I didn't know what sort of information he was gaining, but as with the case of Helen Price, intelligence hadn't skipped a generation.
Stuart and Dare said nothing as they looked at each other. Stuart's expression was remote, but friendly, like only a politician could master. Dare's boredom held a thin edge of distaste.
“Leave.” Constantine's voice brooked less argument than it had with Dare. Of the two of them, Constantine very obviously disliked his father more. For a moment, there was a common enemy between the two boys. Then Constantine turned to Dare. “You too.”
Dare leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankle. “Can't. Doctor's orders.”
Constantine gripped the sheet covering his legs and something dark flashed between the two of them.
Stuart turned to me, forcing my attention away. “Miss Crown. So intriguing, seeing you here again.”
I swallowed, but nodded. “Good evening.”
“It's well past that. Shouldn't you be abed?”
“Probably?”
